The Dangerous Lord (16 page)

“Revelations that were true! It's not my fault you have a mistress!”

“Even if Miss Greenaway
were
my mistress, which she
isn't,” he said evenly, “it was you who exposed my association with her, thus destroying my engagement. In the process, you drove Katherine to elope with a man who might very well be a fortune hunter. Your meddling cost me and your friend a great deal. Surely you'll admit that.”

She sniffed. “I admit only that I wrote what my conscience dictated.”

Sometimes he found her bloody self-righteousness almost amusing. “And in the second column? Did your conscience also dictate that you make baseless assumptions about my war career?”

Guilt suffused her face, as he'd known it would. “All right, I'll admit that was badly done, and I regret it.” She set her shoulders with stubborn determination. “But I can set the record straight in Lord X's next col—”

“How? I assure you, Wellington won't repeat his words to Gideon. No one in the government will acknowledge me. And if you present only rumor, that will make your readers doubt me more, not less. No, you've opened that Pandora's box, and you'll never be able to shut it.”

“What do you
want
from me? I can't marry you, Ian!”

“Yet I still need a wife.” He rubbed his chin, casting her a speculative glance. “So why don't you provide me with a replacement for yourself.”

Clearly, he'd startled her. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You know many young women, and you have the ear of society even without your column. I'm sure you could find me someone to marry.”

“Find you a wife?” The panic in her expression pleased him inordinately. “Don't be ridiculous! I-I wouldn't know who or how or—”

“Then you plan to leave me in this situation?”

“Yes. No! I-I mean—” She broke off, her eyes narrowing. “You act as if you must marry at once. But if you'll only wait until the gossip dies down—”

“I can't,” he bit out, then cursed himself when her brow knit in confusion.

“Why not?”

After years of spying, coming up with a plausible reason for his urgency took only a second's thought, especially since it was almost true. “Searching for a wife takes me away from my estate. I've spent two fruitless years on the endeavor; I can ill afford another.” A sudden inspiration hit him. “And consider this—you spend a great deal of time at social events advancing your profession, while I spend the same time looking for a wife. It would make perfect sense for us to help each other in our endeavors.”

With a wary look, she folded her arms over her chest. “Each other? Exactly how would you help
me
?”

He raised an eyebrow. “By not exposing your real identity, of course.”

Alarm lit her features. “You mean if I don't find you a wife, you'll expose me?”

He suppressed a smile. “Let's just say that your refusal to help me with my problem will encourage me to start a rumor or two about Lord X's true identity. You could hardly blame me for that, given the ‘rumors' you've spread about
me
.”

Gliding away from the fireplace, she wandered to the dressing table. She braced her hands on the greenish wood surface and stared into the mirror as if to find answers in her reflection. His gut tightened at the sight. He didn't like playing these games, but he saw no other way to secure her.

And secure her he would, no matter what stratagem he must use. He'd have that waist-length hair scattered across a pillow and those hands clutching him close. He'd have those honey-sweet lips and that lissome body, rampant with sensual secrets. And yes, that bloody sharp mind of hers would be his, too. He wanted it all. As soon as he could get it.

In the mirror, he saw her gaze shift to him, haunted, reluctant. Bitter. “To think that a few minutes ago, I called you a gentleman.”

The accusation stung, but not enough to change his mind. “Everyone makes mistakes,” he said softly. “And your mistake lies in underestimating me. I'm not a gentleman when it comes to getting what I want. You should have learned that by now.”

Folding her arms over her breasts like a Christian maid meeting the heathens, she faced him. “What if I do as I threatened before? Find out your secrets and print them?”

“Come now, Felicity, do you really want war between us? Over the mere possibility of helping with my hunt for a wife?” He stepped toward her. “I'm not asking you to drag a woman into the church for me. I merely want you to praise me to your unattached female friends, introduce me here and there, and try to negate the effects of your most recent column. Surely you don't think me undeserving of
anyone
simply because I don't suit
you
. Am I so evil as all that?”

The starch went out of her posture. Bending her head, she fiddled with the lace ties of her wrapper. “N-No, of course not.”

He pressed his advantage. “Think of the opportunity this will afford you to make my life miserable. You can choose only sharp-tongued women or ugly women or even cruel women. In my current state of desperation, I'll take nearly anyone you find me.”

Meeting his gaze, she said archly, “Somehow I doubt that.”

He smiled. “You know me so well. You see? You could be a great help to me.”

Her consternation at his words was so transparent, he marveled that she didn't realize herself how unwilling she was to marry him off elsewhere. Stubborn woman. Her
pride kept her from accepting him.
And
her jealousy, no matter what she protested.

Well, he'd use that jealousy against her. He'd make her see that watching him court someone else was much worse than enduring his protection of Miss Greenaway. And if he had to dance with ten thousand women to make her see that, so be it.

Felicity cast a quick look up to heaven as if hoping for the Deity to advise her on his proposal. Then she lowered her gaze to his. “All right. I'll do what I can.”

“Thank you.” When she went limp, he added, “And don't think to renege once we're back in London. I shall hold you to your promise.”

“I'm sure you will,” she said morosely.

Her misery delighted him. She was his already, whether she admitted it or not. “Tomorrow,” he said, “I must be off early to attend to business in London, but tomorrow night, I'll be at Lord Caswell's party. You intend to go, too, don't you?”

She gave a stiff nod.

“Good. You can begin your efforts on my behalf then.” He couldn't resist adding, “Of course, if you change your mind about my proposal—”

“I shan't,” she retorted, though he noticed her words lacked conviction this time.

“Very well. Until tomorrow.” He gave a slight bow, then headed off toward the door. He didn't want to leave. What he wanted was to toss her onto the feather bed and make love to her until morning. With any other woman, that would ensure a marriage.

But it might not with Felicity, and he wouldn't risk the possibility that compromising her might firm her resolve to resist him.

As he opened the door, she called out behind him. “Wait, Ian!”

He turned with his hand on the knob to find her coming
toward him with his coat, which he'd forgotten on the floor. As she neared him, however, her gaze shifted to a spot behind him, and the color drained from her face. He followed the direction of her gaze, already guessing what he would find.

Standing outside the nursery across the hall were several people who'd apparently been engaged in earnest conversation until he opened the door: Sara's housekeeper, a nursery maid, another servant…and Sara and Emily. All eyes were locked on him standing in his shirtsleeves and Felicity clutching his coat, dressed in only her chemise and wrapper.

The servants melted away at once, averting their eyes as they scurried off along the hallway, but Sara and Emily stood frozen. Then shock hardened Sara's expression, while Emily began to smile.

Ian scarcely had time to decide how to handle the awkward situation. Much as he wished he could use it to force Felicity's hand, he doubted that would work. She was much too independent to be swayed by his friends' advice and would resent him even more if he urged the marriage on the basis of her now-compromised reputation.

Yet as his gaze locked with Sara's, it occurred to him that Sara would be a good ally. The only way to gain her support, however, was to ensure she had a clear grasp of the facts and not merely what tale Felicity might spin.

“Good evening, ladies.” He smiled with casual ease. “I hope there's nothing wrong in the nursery.” He heard Felicity groan behind him, but ignored her, focusing instead on Sara.

The young countess glared at him. “What are you doing here, Ian?”

“Miss Taylor has agreed to help me in my search for a wife,” he said truthfully. “We were consulting on strategy.”

“Yes,” Felicity chimed in with great eagerness. “Lord St. Clair and I were having a long discussion on the matter.”

As Emily rolled her eyes, Sara glanced at Felicity. “But my dear, the way you're dressed—”

Ian shot Felicity an amused glance, wondering how she would explain
that
one away. With a little gasp of dismay, Felicity tugged her wrapper closed. Clearly, she'd forgotten she was wearing only her chemise and a scrap of lace.

“Don't blame Miss Taylor,” Ian told Sara with great magnanimity. “I surprised her after she'd already prepared for bed, and we became so engrossed in our conversation that we completely forgot about the proprieties. Besides, Miss Taylor is fairly nonchalant about such matters.”

“So nonchalant that you removed your coat?” Her tone was stiff as starch, as stern as any mother's. “Don't try to fool me, Ian. I know how you men work. And if you think I'll allow you to take advantage of a woman in my house—”

“Truly, Sara, nothing happened,” Felicity protested. “I know it looks bad, but—”

“You needn't defend him,” Sara retorted. “I know what he is about.”

Ian raised one eyebrow. “Do you really? Then you must know that I proposed marriage to Miss Taylor.”

With a look of shock, Sara shifted her gaze to Felicity. “Is this true?”

He fancied he could feel the heat of Felicity's anger warm his back.

“Yes.” Felicity hurried to add, “But I refused him. We discussed it, and that's all that happened. I swear it.”

Ian bit back a smile of triumph. Felicity might think her revelation would extricate her from this, but she didn't know Sara as well as he did. The woman loved making matches, and both she and Emily were eager to see him married. They'd be on his side from now on, especially if it looked as if he were reasonable and Felicity were simply foolish.

How else
could
it look, after all? Without revealing what
she knew about his connection to Miss Greenaway and how she knew it, Felicity could never reasonably explain why she'd refused him. Thus her refusal would seem inexplicable, and Sara would have all the more reason to work at matching them up.

In truth, there was already a dangerously familiar gleam in his friend's eye. “You refused Ian?”

“Yes.” Felicity looked from Sara to Emily. When she caught sight of Emily's broad smile, her expression grew panicky. “That's why I agreed to help. Him, I mean. You know, find a wife. Because I refused him. He said if I wouldn't marry him, I ought to help, and I agreed, and we…we had a perfectly civil conversation. That's all that happened. Truly…”

As Felicity trailed off, Sara shot him a questioning look. His only answer was a smile. Her brown eyes darkened. “Ian, I'll speak to you in a moment downstairs. Just now I wish to talk to Miss Taylor. Alone.”

“Of course.” He glanced at Felicity, whose wide eyes and pale face showed her bewilderment. If she only knew what Sara was about to put her through…He didn't envy her that, having once or twice been at the mercy of Sara's matchmaking attempts.

Still, he felt a perverse need to reassure Felicity that he'd keep silent about her identity as Lord X. He laid his hand on her shoulder, trying not to react to the sheer pleasure of touching her. “You needn't worry about my discretion in this matter, nor that of my friends. I'm sure they can keep the servants quiet as well. Despite all the talk earlier this evening, no one will discuss this affair with the gossips, and especially not with Lord X. The man won't be brought into it, I assure you. Certainly not by me.”

Felicity's eyes locked with his, and he saw understanding flicker briefly in them. He owed her that much…to protect her secret.

But though he didn't realize it, Felicity was still con
fused. What was he attempting with this new ploy? He could have used this opportunity to force her into marriage, but he hadn't. Why was he being so truthful with his friends, so defensive of her honor? And so willing to keep her secrets?

“If you ladies will excuse me,” he added, “I'll leave you to your talk.”

He strolled off down the hall, leaving Felicity to shake her head. “I'll never understand that man.”

“None of us ever have,” Sara remarked at her side. Gently, she took Felicity's arm. “Come, my dear, let's go into your room before more servants happen along and see you standing here in
that
. Never fear, we'll help you figure out how to deal with Ian.”

The statement brought Felicity up short. What was there to figure out? She and Ian had made a simple agreement, and she'd told Sara and Emily there would be no marriage. What else was left to discuss?

Yet the two women obviously thought there was
something
to talk about. They both stared at her expectantly. Suddenly it dawned on her—they wanted to discuss why she wouldn't marry Ian. His reasonable manner and willingness to marry her had convinced them that he was behaving like a gentleman while she was either a fool or a wanton. They wanted to know which one it was.